Into the Smoke
by GoldPhoenix1
Summary: They see everything. They know our names, they know where we sleep. They know what we look like, how we talk. There's nothing they don't know about us. They know everything. If you're going to try and escape from them, you won't go far. Run, Hide, or Die.
1. Dead Men Walk

A/N: Sorry if this going too fast! I really am. Trust me, the story will go more smoothly the next chapters. And yes, it's a bit confusing, but it will be all straightened out.

Green. All green. All shades of green. Too much _green! _The sun's rays were barely hidden by the trees that loomed ahead of them, but merely shined mercilessly upon the backs of about seven travelers in the middle of a godforsaken jungle on an island in the middle of nowhere. Fun, right?

"Are you going to slow us down the rest of the trip?" Came Ana-Lucia's voice from the front. Sawyer's head looked up from the ground, his injured arm staying still against his side. Michael turned his head to look at Sawyer, and a frown appeared on his face.

Sawyer didn't look like he was having a wonderful walk, in general. His eyes were half-closed, and his head was hung low. Michael could tell he was trying desperately to keep his ego. He glanced at Jin, who had also looked at him.

Sawyer straightened himself up and sighed deeply. "If you keep stopping to yell at me, then yes." Came his reply before he started to walk forward again. Michael and Jin glanced at each other before they continued to follow Ana-Lucia, who had also started to walk on as well.

Fifteen minutes passed in silence, with only the chirping of birds overhead as any sound. A cough came from behind Michael, and he turned his head to look at Sawyer again, only to be given a dangerous glare. The father huffed and continued onward, exhaustion creeping up into him.

Eko had been speaking quietly to Ana-Lucia the whole time there, every once glancing back to "check up" on the raft group of now three. Jin had an idea what was going on, but tried desperately to decipher everyone's comments to him.

There was another noise where Sawyer was, and Michael's eyes widened as he set eyes on him, only to see that the man had collapsed onto the ground. Ana-Lucia looked back, and Eko went over to Sawyer and opened one of his eyes. They were narrowed and rolled slowly around in their sockets, and Eko closed it up again.

"He is in a horrible condition," Eko announced, looking up. "We need to carry him the rest of the way, or he will die." Michael stepped forward.

"We can lean him on you and me and drag him," Michael said, casting a glance at Sawyer, who still did not move. His breathing looked labored and deep, and his hair covered half his face.

"We don't have enough time, Eko. Leave him or die trying to save him," Ana-Lucia's voice was harsh, but Eko had already hauled the unconscious man up to an upright position, where he soon put one of his arms around his own shoulders and another around Michael's.

"Let us go now," Eko said, nodding with agreement to his own comment. Ana-Lucia shook her head and scowled-This was going to be a long day.

Sawyer was on the raft again, in the middle of the ocean. The sky was a deep shade off blue, and the water was still. No wave appeared on the ocean's top, neither gull nor bird flew overhead. Everything seemed to stop.

He looked around, a bit confused. "Mike?" He called out, knowing there would be no answer. Sawyer shifted, trying to figure what the heck was going on.

"Sawyer," came a voice from ahead of him. His head twisted back forward, and his eyes narrowed. In front of him was Walt, his dark eyes now pale. His hands hung loosely at his side, and his clothes were ragged and torn.

Sawyer said nothing for the moment. He knew as well as anybody else that had been on the raft that Walt was taken by The Others. But of course, he was in a situation where he didn't even know where he was.

"Welcome death, Sawyer, the other side is better," Walt's voice was oddly low, not like his usual "cheery" self. Sawyer blinked and tried to stand, his knees buckling underneath him. He couldn't stand, but only sit there and stare at the unfamiliar Walt.

"What the-" Sawyer's voice was cut off as a sick pain pierced his chest. His mouth opened as he gasped for air, but nothing entered his lungs. His eyes glanced at here Walt had been, but no one was there. Sawyer was alone, once again. His eyes closed tight, and he opened them again, finding himself in the jungle, being dragged by Michael and Eko.

Michael jolted upright as Sawyer's head shot up from its hanging position. He looked over at Eko, who had yelled up to Ana-Lucia to stop. Indeed she had, and her head was turned to stare at the now conscious man with irritation, and Michael could already make out what she was thinking.

Sawyer straightened and glared at Michael, who immediately let go of him. Eko did the same, and Sawyer rubbed his face with one hand, then ruffled his hair.

Michael waited for him to say anything, or explain what was going on with him.

Sawyer scowled and looked at them. "Going to wait to see if I'm gonna collapse again?" He said as he looked at Ana-Lucia. She grunted and turned again, shouting out to keep moving. Boy, did she say that a lot.

Sawyer was still a little confused by the dream as they walked on into the jungle. Why did Walt say that? _"Welcome death, Sawyer, its better on the other side."_ The simple words made a small chill go up his spine, like something haunted was in them. The other side? What was that supposed to mean, exactly?

Eko stopped suddenly, his muscled arm raised in the air. Everyone immediately stopped as well, their breathing deep and some other's were even quivering. Everyone was either looking at the tracker or at the inner part of the jungle.

The dark skinned man pointed to large thorny bushes near them, indicating to get under them as quickly as possible. Each one of them got a prick from one of the thorny leaves, and one dared to stick itself near Sawyer's throbbing wound on his shoulder, and in reaction, cursed loudly. Eko pulled him into the bush by his shirt, and all was quiet.

They waited until footsteps could be heard from their left, the way they had been come from. Feet soon appeared in front of their eyes, and no one dared even breathe. Sawyer peered closely at each of The Others faces, only catches glimpses for their strides were quick and paced.

"Where are they? We've been following them for hours," Came a familiar voice from the back. Sawyer looked up at him, eyes narrowing.

It was Boone.


	2. The Attacks Begin

There was no sound. No one breathed. The birds even stopped their usual caws. An eerie silence stretched over the jungle as the castaways set their eyes on Boone, wide-eyed.

How could this be, a dead man walking? Sawyer, Michael, and Jin had all seen his burial and the words that had been said there. They had seen the blood that had drenched his clothing on that day. Of course, at that time, Sawyer could barely care less, but now seeing a dead man walk made him anxious.

"Boone, keep walking. I don't care if you're going to complain, I don't care what you feel. All I want is those castaways." A slim looking man appeared in front of him, his hair thin and brown. His face was taut and sharp-looking, and Sawyer could recognize him as the man Ethan.

"Has Walt completed his task?" Boone's voice had turned cold and smooth, like the sea in Sawyer's dream.

"Yes. That is why we must hurry and find them." Ethan replied, turning on his heels and walking forward again, oblivious to the fact the people they were looking for were crouched in the brush only two feet away from him.

There were about ten of them, in total, at least in this group. They all had the same expressions, taut with nothingness. Their eyes looked cold and "far-away", like the murderers Sawyer had seen in movies.

The Others footsteps echoed away, and the noise was restored to the jungle. Birds started to cry their screeching calls once more, and the seven were allowed to breathe again. Michael stared at where they had been, his eyes worried and narrowed.

"Walt…" He whispered under his breath, getting up. Sawyer shot a glance at his companion before getting up himself, brushing away the leaves that had attached themselves to his shirt.

"Ain't life grand…" Sawyer mumbled. Ana-Lucia was the only one to hear him, and the leader of the tail-end survivor's stared daggers into him. Sawyer merely smirked-He could care less.

Jack walked through the jungle, the heat nearly unbearable. Odd, the trees barely made any shade, only the Caves where everyone lodged, considering that "The Others were coming."

Charlie kept on saying that there were no Others. Was he right, or was he just trying to comfort everyone, Jack wasn't sure. Of course, he had not been there when chasing down Danielle-He was busy at the Hatch.

Ah, the mysterious Hatch. Jack was used to the shifts that had probably made Desmond's life miserable all those years. But was it only a coincidence that Jack had known him, or was it something else?

And what would happen if the numbers on the countdown clock went down to zero? What then? Would the Hatch blow up, or would the mysterious sickness cast its wrath upon the castaways?

Jack's head swirled with a million questions without answers, and he hated it. When he had been at the hospital, at his old life, he had known a lot. But now, it was like the doctor knew nothing.

As he looked around for fruit, something seemed to be in his presence. The doctor's tenses tightened, his head swerved this way and that. No one was there. Or at least he couldn't see them.

_Jack. _A whispering voice came to him. The doctor's eyes narrowed as he stayed perfectly still, breathing in sharply.

_The smoke. The raft. The Others. Your father. Your wife. Boone. Walt…_More whispers by different people swirled in the air and Jack struggled to interpret them. The leader of the castaways slowly backed up to where he came, turning forwards and walking back toward the Caves. The whispers followed him up till the end of the thick jungle, and suddenly the normal sounds returned.

As he entered a cave, one of Jack's hands lifted and rubbed his temple, sighing deeply. He remembered what Sayid had said as he returned, about the whispers and the first news of The Others. Jack shook his head-He needed some sleep.

"Jack!" Came a yell from the jungle only five minutes. The doctor turned his head sharply to see Sayid himself running toward him. "Jack, its Charlie. He's been attacked."

Sawyer rubbed his eyes tiredly as he slumped near a tree. They had finally taken a break after two more miles. Beads of hot sweat rolled down each of their faces as the drank thankfully from the canteens, enjoying the moment.

"Seems old Boone has risen from the dead," Sawyer commented, taking another gulp from his canteen. Michael shifted, looking at the jungle.

"But they still have Walt," He said, completely ignoring that Boone _had_ risen for the dead. The father's tone was mixed with sadness and rage. "I still need to find him." Ana-Lucia looked at him oddly, before shrugging. If he left, it meant less food to gather.

Something cracked only three yards away from them. The castaways stiffened, praying that it wasn't the Others. It seemed that the tail-end survivors had some bad luck with them-Sawyer had never seen the Others beside the raft incident.

Before they knew what was happening, Sawyer felt something hard hit the side of his head. A black haze filled his vision, and his consciousness slipped away from him.


	3. Broken Bones and Broken Hope

Jack ran into the jungle, following the blurry figure of Sayid ahead of him. His back bounced wildly from his back, the sturdy straps streaming in the wind.

The Iraqi in front of the doctor stopped abruptly, and Jack walked over beside him. They were in a very small clearing, where grass came to be as tall as Jack's knees. He quickly turned his head to see Sun sitting near a motionless figure, who was splotched with blood virtually everywhere. The left leg was twisted in an awkward angle, and his shirt was torn, indicating a struggle.

Sun looked up immediately as Jack approached and knelt down by Charlie. She had found him lying there when she had been collecting fruits, seeing that their supply of it was slowly running out. When she had entered the clearing, though, her heart had leaped at the sight of Charlie crumpled up near a tree, and had ran for help, soon getting Sayid.

Jack lifted his hand and gently shook Charlie by the shoulder, trying not to touch the large scrape that extended from his left shoulder down.

"Charlie?" Jack said, looking at him. About to lift his arm away from him, Charlie's eyes split open suddenly, making the doctor tense slightly.

"They are real…" Charlie managed to say, his voice weak. "The Others…" His eyes closed again, and his body relaxed again. Jack glanced at Sayid, who was looking slightly disturbed.

"We need to carry him back to the Caves," Jack announced after a moment's silence, standing up. "Sayid, grab his left arm, I'll take his right. Try not to touch his wounds."

xXxXxXxXxXx

Sawyer groaned as he awoke from unconsciousness, his eyes flickering open slowly. His mind was blurry, and his thoughts drifted randomly in his mind. Sawyer blearily remembered where he was, until a high-pitched bird screeched not far away from him. His senses came back to him only a split-second later, and his head twisted around to see what had happened, and where exactly where he was.

His legs and arms were tied back onto a sturdy looking tree, and it seemed that Sawyer was pinned helplessly there. Trees surrounded them, and the grass was a deep dark green. Although it was the mid-afternoon, the place seemed eerily dark. Even the air around it seemed almost suffocating and Sawyer could not help but feel out of place.

"Look, he's awake." Sawyer heard someone say in an unfamiliar voice, only a small distance away. A figure emerged from the shadows, obviously a male. Sawyer waited patiently for him to speak, giving him one of those "You-Think-_I'll_-Cooperate?" stares.

The man was skinny, his arms tight with muscles. His shirt was a dark black, ripped in random places and hung loosely off his torso. The jeans that were on his legs were ripped on both of the knees, and his hair was an almost-white blonde.

"Where is Jack Shepherd?" The man said. Sawyer stared blankly at him- What did he want with Saint Jack?

"I said, _where is Jack Shepherd_?" His voice became almost snake-like, and his eyes pierced into Sawyer's own eyes.

Sawyer merely looked at him, considering the options. If he told the man and his comrades (Who he had seen in the background) where Jack was, would they untie him, or leave him here to die? If he did not, would he be wounded?

"Who are you, first of all," Sawyer asked suddenly, looking at him. "I can't answer without knowing who the hell ya'll are."

Sawyer watched as the man whispered something to his "buddies" in the background before turning his head back forward once more. His expression had turned from violent to tense.

"Our identities are to remain secret until our mission is complete," The man said, turning his body and striding toward his companions.

"So, you're just going to leave me here?" Sawyer questioned, raising a brow. Why did they tie him to a tree, in the first place, if they didn't want him for something?

"No. We need you for the mission."

xXxXxXxXxXx


	4. The Metal Structure

A/N- Sorry if the chapter seems quick… and short, but I didn't feel like writing today P. Sorry for the wait, too. I've been blah.

Michael groaned as he became conscious again, a thumping pain erupting in the back of his head. Reaching back absent-mindedly, he felt a bump and a significant amount of blood. Just his luck.

Now, what had happened? Michael looked around for his traveling companions, seeing them near the bases of two enormous trees. All of them had cuts all around them, especially Ana, who had a long gash down her cheek.

But the question still buzzed in the father's head- What had happened? How, why, when, where? His mind was in a total blur, but he could remember only this-

They all jumped when Sawyer become unconscious, and became even more frantic when a mysterious man emerged from the shadows, along with three others. He had remembered getting up, but only to become unconscious as he felt something hard hit the back of his head. And now they were here.

But Michael didn't see Sawyer anywhere in the vicinity. Where was he? Had the Others taken him as hostage, like his son, Walt? A sick shiver went down his spine as he thought about the boy.

"Jin? Eko?" Michael said, trying to get them conscious. The Korean stirred and finally lifted his head to look at Michael. Eko soon did as well, and soon, everyone in the group had become awake.

"When I get my hands on them…" Michael heard Ana murmur quietly to herself as she lifted herself up from the ground like everyone else had. A quiet, frightened conversation had gone up between everyone there, and Michael strained to interpret what was going on.

"Hey, where's the tall guy?" Ana said, as she crossed her arms, staring directly at Michael with unnerving eyes.

"I don't know," Michael answered awkwardly, rubbing his temple afterward. In general, they weren't doing very well.

xXxXxXx

They set Charlie down in Jack's "Operating Tent" gingerly, careful not to agitate his many bleeding wounds. He turned to Sayid, and asked him to fetch a wet cloth to clean up the wounds and the dirt on Charlie's face.

"Jack…" Charlie murmured, his eye peering open. "I saw Boone… and Walt…" The doctor stared at the British man, guessing that he had been hallucinating.

"Just hang in there, Charlie," Jack said as the Iraqi returned with the cloth. The doctor dabbed it on the wounded man's forehead, then continued to clean the scratches, gashes, and blood.

"Jack… I'm serious…" Charlie began to say, but his voice trailed off as conscious slipped away from him again. At least he would be quiet for now, and not speak about Walt, or the deceased Boone.

Claire peered into the tent, her eyes widening as she saw Charlie. "Charlie!" She said loudly, making Jack look up with a jolt. Claire looked on with worried eyes, and Jack could tell she was looking at all of his gashes.

"Is… is he going to be alright?" Claire asked, her voice shivering slightly. Jack turned to her.

"He will be… I'll make sure of it." The doctor replied. He wasn't even sure if his words were not lies. He hoped they weren't.

xXxXxXxXx

Sawyer was pushed along by a 'woman Other' from the back, stumbling slightly afterward. His wound had gotten worse, and his feet and legs started to feel sluggish and tired, and he felt almost dizzy.

After being taken down from his imprisonment from the tree, they had hurried onward, and had been, all-in-all, harassing Sawyer for anything he did wrong, such as make noise with his feet, slow down, talk, and even make noises from his breathing. Life wasn't going very well.

As the light began to fade away, the Others suddenly stopped, and Sawyer looked forward for the first time that hike, surprised at what he saw.

A large, metal structure was in front of them, rust creeping up its walls and vines hanging all about it. No one seemed to move, not even birds flew overhead. It was, no doubt, an eerie place, and even the air seemed uncanny. The pushed him onward with a sharp blow at the spine, heading toward the structure's door.

Things would only get worse.


	5. Black and White Movie

_A/N -- YAY! I finally updated. Sorry, sorry, a million-times sorry for the wait. I've been so busy that I wasn't able to write. But I think you all will like this chapter, gives away a lot of the plot. xD Enjoy!_

Jack stepped out of his tent, drops of sweat beaded all over his face. He had just finished up cleaning up Charlie's wounds, not to mention giving him the small antibiotics they had left, with the help of Claire. The other castaways were whispering to one another, stealing glances at the doctor from time to time. Jack seemed to not even notice, but kept on walking to the water source with an empty water bottle clutched in his hand. Small speckles of Charlie's blood were in random places on his shirt, and the Caves weren't blocking out much of the heat that day. Things were just getting worse by the day.

Jack glanced up toward the tops of the rocky caves, squinting toward the sky. A small, dark spot circled in the sky, right above the shelter of the Caves. _It must be a hawk_, Jack thought to himself. _…A really big hawk._

In fact, Jack was correct. The mere black dot in the sky was a large bird of prey, probably the biggest flying thing ever seen in the history of man. Its feathers were a dark brown, splotches of white dabbed here and there, the underbelly the bright color of ivory. Its eyes, however, were different – They were the color of cut rubies, running blood.

For now, this giant bird flew above the Caves, watching, listening, learning. Its large head swiveled to watch the leader of them, taking in how he walked, where he was going, what he was wearing. This large hawk watched each castaway with a certain knowing glance, cramming as much information as it possibly could. This bird wasn't anything normal, in general.

With a flip of its wings, it began to head in the opposite direction, deep into the 'haunted' jungle. The wind was low that day, and the bird had to flap its huge wings faster than usual, talons set securely underneath him. Its red eyes scanned below, searching for the familiar place where his 'home' was. Already, the beast had flown deep into the island, miles away from the Caves, and he was getting near to his destination.

Finally, the bird turned itself into an odd position, launching itself to the dark green ground below. No sign of fatigue could be seen on the bird, no rapid heart beat nor heavy breath. Odd for one animal – Even if it was huge – to not be tired after flying such a distance, but that was just how this_ thing_ was.

The sun glinted down on something at the ground, on something metal. Flying closer, the bird could see his destination in clear view – A large metal building with a box-like form.

(Space)

Sawyer glared at one of the Others that had just hurled him into the building. If looks could kill, they'd all be dead. But the Southerner noticed that non of them had any personality, no 'glimmer in their eyes'. It was like looking at a black and white movie, seeing no burst of colors or any excitement at all.

"Watch it, Burly." Sawyer growled, giving the leader a new nickname. He didn't seem to notice, though – He was too busy directing one of his companions where to put Sawyer.

All of a sudden, the prisoner was thrust to the cold rusted wall of the empty room. Soon, Sawyer felt a strong grip on his shoulder, turning him over to face the Others. This Other was one of the females, and the Southerner was amazed at her raw strength. Yet soon, Sawyer found himself being tied to the wall with ropes to the point where he could barely breathe.

Yet as the con-man looked up, he saw the leader appear from a hallway. Where had he gone? Giving him an odd glare, the Other merely gave him a faint, mechanical smile, snapping his fingers. There was a small racket a small distance away, and something was coming down from the hallway.

"Have you ever seen a bird of prey?" The leader asked, giving Sawyer a questionable brow. The Southerner merely huffed, giving him one of his own infamous stares.

"What do you think, wise-ass?" Sawyer spat back, trying to make himself more comfortable in his rope prison. Nothing seemed to help.

There was a ruffle coming from the hall, and an enormous beast stepped out of the shadows. It was walking, wings tucked behind in a lazy position, head held high. What amazed Sawyer most, however, was its size. It was as big as him, damnit! What kind of bird was it, a giant hawk? Where did it come from, prehistoric times?

"This is one of our, how you say, guardians." The Others explained. "We have set up a species of animal somewhere on the island to survey… New arrivals." With this, he looked Sawyer up and down.

"Our Hawk here surveys the skies, taking in everything he can see about the castaways." The leader continued. "Our sharks survey the sea, yet one of our most dependable was killed not long ago." The Other stopped, as if thinking about something. "And as for the land, we have our security system." His voice lowered the slightest bit. "You will not know about it anytime soon, Castaway."

Sawyer felt as if they were telling him this for a reason. Struggling to try to get more air, the Southerner gasped out, "Just what do you want from me, Burly?" The leader grinned, reaching into his back pocket and taking out an empty shot.

The Lead Other raised the shot to his own neck, pocking the metal needle into the skin. It seemed to not affect him the slightest, and the syringe soon filled up with crimson blood. Once it was full, 'Burly' took it out from his flesh, raising it to eyesight and beginning to walk toward Sawyer.

"To give you this." The Leader hissed, beckoning one of the female Others over. She was young, not like the others, probably around the age of fifteen.

"Alexandra, give the shot to him. Make it quick, we need to go soon." Burly ordered the girl, handing her the crimson syringe. Alexandra nodded obediently, walking closer to Sawyer. The prisoner struggled to get free of his rope prison, failing to do so and only making the ropes tighter than before. The girl raised the syringe to the height of Sawyer's neck, slowly, and painfully in Sawyer's case, sticking the needle into his neck and squeezing the Other's blood into the castaway.

The pain was unbearable, and Sawyer yelled out loud, his scream echoing through the building. He could feel the liquid pouring into his blood-stream, but worse yet, he could feel his own self slipping away, being replaced with something unknown to him.

Alexandra watched the Castaway as she emptied the crimson blood into his neck. When it was empty, she slowly took the needle from his neck, and watched as he flinched and yelled out. The lead Other's blood was slowly settling into his blood-stream, the thing it was supposed to do.

Then, she looked at his eyes. They were a light shade of blue, but something was changing that. The color, preferably. From the top, the blue was beginning to be over-layed by a grey shade, and slowly, very slowly, his iris began to become a grey color. When no more blue existed, Sawyer's yells immediately stopped. The castaway turned his head over to her, his eyelids drooping at the slightest. His usual expression was gone; there was neither glimmer nor glare in his eyes.

He was now apart of the black and white movie.

(Space)

The midnight-colored horse walked through the brush with ease, nostrils flaring and tail whipping behind him, virtually at nothing. His hooves broke leaves and twigs below in half under the raw weight of him, and the equine continued on through the thick, coarse jungle.

A new smell made the black horse stop in his tracks, thin and sensitive ears perking up to listen. Something in front of him was walking to the left, and when the horse looked more closely, he could see a boy at a very young age.

This human was soaking wet, his clothes torn and drenched with sea water. The equine could see him shivering, but from what, the horse didn't know. The boy suddenly looked up, not in the direction of the horse, but from behind him. With a jolt, the soaked human began to sprint through the jungle at full speed, making the black animal shy away for the time being.

Something, _someone_, was following that boy, yet the horse didn't seem to mind. This animal was smarter than your everyday horse, and something about it seemed awkward. The black animal, himself, was running, but not away from something, but toward it.

He was on his own mission. The mission? To find his killer.


End file.
